


LiS Oneshots

by AceGaymond



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, One Shot, Swear words I did not intend for it to have so many swear words why, Will probably add on more tags, amberprice, mention of smut??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-01 06:13:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13992180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceGaymond/pseuds/AceGaymond
Summary: Life is Strange one-shots I write occasionally, I'll try to update regularly but regular updates aren't promisedPrompts/suggestions would be very gratefully accepted, just send a message to me





	1. Not Good Enough

There’s always been a quiet voice, telling you that you’re not good enough for her. Telling you that you’d never be good enough for her because she’s better than you in every single way.

 

So that’s what you told her, last Friday night, as the both of you lay in the bed she paid for (what’s new?).

 

_‘I’m not good enough for you,’_ you remember saying, halfway through watching _Blade Runner_ because she seems to be obsessed with that fucking movie, and she looks at you, a mixture of shock and pain (you can’t tell which) in her eyes.

 

_'Why the fuck would you even think that?'_ she asks, and maybe it was the alcohol speaking but fuck _,_ she almost looked twice as beautiful when she was angry, with her brows furrowed and her mouth taut.

 

You shrug your shoulders nervously, tearing your eyes away from her beautiful face to...well, nowhere in particular, really. You run your fingers through your hair she’d somehow managed to convince you to dye blue because it ‘brought out the colour of your eyes’. ‘I don’t know…’ you manage to stutter out, and it probably sounded dumber than you intended it to because she’s staring at you with a look in her eye you couldn’t quite understand. If you had to take a guess, it would probably be, ‘ _Chloe Price is so fucking dumb, why do I even date her?’_

 

Suddenly, she grips your shoulder with a startlingly strong grip, her eyes brimming with tears.

 

‘Fuck, forget I said anything,’ you respond, your eyes widening in alarm. ‘It was just a random thought.’ _Liar,_ a voice in your head screamed, but you willed for it to shut up.

 

The both of you fall into an uncomfortable silence, her hand still gripping tightly onto your shoulders and you weren’t looking but you knew she was staring right at you. Staring right through you, seemingly peering into your soul, like she knew all your darkest secrets. _This_ Rachel Amber was the girl Blackwell loved and hated simultaneously, and Chloe could see why.

 

_‘You’re good enough for me, Chloe Price._ You’re better than me,’ she finally says after a while, her voice breaking a little at the end. She looks at you, with such a huge amount of pain in those hazel eyes you loved so much you can’t help but be stunned into silence.

 

You want to laugh it off, pretend it was all a joke and go back to watching the long-forgotten movie still playing in the background, but there’s a silent plea in her eyes you can’t ignore. You actually look at her, turning your head, and all the walls you spent so long building up came crumbling down all over again because there are tears running down her cheeks and her makeup’s smudged and she’s clutching the blanket so tightly her knuckles are turning white because _of you._

 

You try to stop yourself but you couldn’t (you can’t, you never could), pressing your lips to hers and you were fairly certain that you’re the closest to Heaven you ever would be and when she started kissing you back you knew for certain what being in Heaven felt like.

 

And just for that night, you didn’t care about your mum or her douche of a boyfriend, you didn’t care what anyone else thought, and your father’s death was pushed to the deepest recesses of your mind because you were _enough_ for Rachel Amber.


	2. Twelve Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will probably add onto this later

‘...Rachel?’ 

 

‘In the flesh.’

 

‘It’s been twelve fucking years, fuck, I never…’   
  


‘I know, right? I never thought I’d be back in this hellhole.’

 

‘Where the  _ fuck  _ did you go?’

 

‘Las Vegas, the city of shitheads.’

 

‘Without me?’

 

‘I wanted to bring you along…’

 

‘But?’

 

‘I couldn’t.’

 

‘Why?’

 

‘I...can’t say.’

 

‘Fuck you, Rachel Amber. You make us,  _ me _ , worry and blame myself for twelve fucking years and you can’t even give me a fucking reason-’

 

‘How are you doing? With...Max…?’

 

‘That’s none of your fucking business.’

 

‘Chloe, I’m sorry-’

 

‘Get the fuck away from me! You can’t just fucking storm back in here, with your...your bullshit and expect me to pretend like everything’s alright!’

 

‘I never did...I just...I don’t know…’  
  
‘What, did you think I was just going to let you back into my life?’

 

‘No, I-’

 

‘Don’t ever fucking talk to me again.’

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

‘Chloe?’

 

‘I told you not to fucking call me anymore!’

 

‘...Chloe?’

 

‘...what?’

 

‘I just wanted to apologise. For everything.’

 

‘Okay. Now fuck off, ‘cause if you think that magically makes everything better...you thought wrong.’

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	3. Your Housemate - 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will add more parts when I have inspiration...

You didn't know who she was. She didn’t know who you were, either. That worked for the both of you, in a way. She came and went, and so did you. She watches you out of the corner of her eye as she paints and you watch her out of the corner of her eye as you write. How did the both of you even end up living together in this shack?

 

It’s been so long that you can’t remember anymore.

 

And it’s the  _ noise  _ that bothers you, you try telling yourself as she drags another man into her room. Glaring openly at the worn door, trying to focus on the story you were absolutely certain had a plot at one point or another. But it was the  _ noise  _ that bothered you. It wasn’t that she was attractive, with her hazel eyes and blond hair, her beautiful laugh and- oh God, you’re falling for her. You sit there in shock, your eyes fixed on the peeling paint. Of course, in the midst of this shitshow, you  _ had  _ to somehow add on to your list of problems. You had to fall for your random housemate you knew nothing about and was probably straight and fucked about a dozen guys a week. You sigh. Why couldn’t you have just fallen for that cute barista at Starbucks?

 

You watch her for a week, frowning and glaring at the seemingly never-ending stream of men entering the shack you called home. You can’t even focus on your stories, not anymore. 

 

The barista gives you her number and you decide to call her to get your mind off your housemate. You discover she’s nice, sweet, beautiful and a hipster. The both of you are meeting for the first time at a random coffee shop (because God forbid a Starbucks employee becomes a Starbuck customer) and you try digging through your suitcase of clothes for something decent to wear. 

 

‘Going somewhere?’ your housemate asks, speaking to you for the first time in weeks and startling you slightly. You glance at her, pausing momentarily, then nod. You head towards the door when she suddenly says, ‘We should get to know each other more.’ You look at her, your face scrunching up in confusion. 

 

‘I mean, at least learn each other’s names…we do stay in the same house, after all,’ she adds, looking at you worriedly. 

 

You flush red. ‘Uh...yeah...my name’s Chloe,’ you manage to stutter out, hesitantly reaching your head out. She grasps your hand tightly. 

 

‘Rachel.’


	4. Please, Come Back to Me

Rachel,

They told me you were gone.

They told me you were never coming back.

I didn't believe them because the lies they told were too painful to believe.

I've been waiting for you at home.

Do you remember the first time we bought that apartment? Do you remember how your eyes lit up when we signed the papers and finally, after these years, owned a house of our own? Do you remember that day you got on one knee right in the middle of the living room and proposed? I do.

I set up everything just how you like it everyday, hoping that one day you'd just walk in through the door and announce that it was all an elaborate prank. 

You never did.

Today they brought me to see a therapist. They think I'm delusional. ‘Probably a result of grief,’ they whisper, when they think I'm not listening.

The therapist lied too.

She said you'd never come back, that you were gone forever.

I know the truth. I know you're somewhere out there, waiting for me. I know you're probably mad at me, and I'm sorry, I really am.

Just please, come back to me.

Love,  
Chloe


End file.
